Of Luck, Suits, and Barbed Wire
by SabbyStarlight
Summary: "You know this is gonna suck, right? I don't gotta warn you?" Mac nodded, leaning to the side a bit so that he could rest against the doorframe while Jack worked. "Go for it." Jack sighed and gently picked up Mac's hand in his own, starting with the barbs buried deep in his palm. "Alright, here we go,"


**Super duper huge thank you to kamilasurujballi14 over on Tumblr for answering my desperate call for inspiration and suggesting barbed wire whump. It was something I never would have thought of in a million years but as soon as I saw that comment I gasped clear out loud. It was so perfect and I couldn't wait to start writing it.**

Jack Dalton was a fairly superstitious person. Anyone who knew him would wholeheartedly agree so there was no point in him trying to deny it. But he didn't believe in luck. Sure, maybe he was _that_ person, going out of his way to avoid walking beneath a ladder or to avoid stepping on cracks in the sidewalk, but superstitions and luck were two entirely different things. And just as sure as he was that he would never be fool enough to own a black cat, not that he was a cat person to begin with, he didn't believe in luck. There was no such thing. Situations, and how you got yourself into or out of them, were all just a matter of skill and preparedness and timing. Luck had nothing to do with it, but that didn't mean that life was always fair.

Which is why, when Mac and Jack found themselves running out of the arms dealer's top-secret mansion in the middle of nowhere, flash drive containing the list of his contacts tucked safely into one of the pockets of Jack's suit, waiting to be delivered to Phoenix when they made it back home, with gunshots from the armed guards they had accidentally tipped off as they made their exit growing closer, and came face to face with the menacingly large fence surrounding the property, Jack should have known that the universe wasn't through throwing (sometimes apparently literal) hurdles in their way.

"Over or through?" Jack asked as he caught his breath, silently grateful for the short break of running for his life.

Mac's blue eyes quickly scanned the area, searching for a plan. Hesitantly, he reached out, pressing a fingertip to the metal of the fence, shoulders sagging in relief as he discovered that it, thankfully, wasn't electric. "I'm guessing you don't happen to have a pair of wire cutters on you?" Mac asked, somehow managing to send his partner a teasing smirk in the midst of their hectic escape-gone-wrong.

Jack made a show of patting himself down and theatrically checking each of the inside pockets lining his suit jacket, searching for the requested tool. "Well, shoot," His answering smile was bright in the darkness. "Must've forgot 'em at home."

"Then over it is." Mac declared, shaking his head, forever grateful for his partner's always unique methods of lightening the mood, as he quickly stripped off his own suit jacket, folded it in half and tossed it, letting it land across the top of the fence. It wasn't much, but he hoped it would be enough to provide them at least some protection from the coils of barbed wire they would have to climb across. He nodded his head towards their escape plan. "Go for it."

Jack's head quickly turned to peer behind them as another gunshot rang out. He could hear voices now, yelling, searching, and his every instinct to protect his partner at all costs had him shaking his head in refusal before he had even turned back around to meet Mac's eyes. "No way, kid. You first."

Mac sighed, reaching out and grabbing Jack's shoulder, pushing him closer to the fence, blatantly ignoring the older man. "Go, Jack. You have the drive, right? We can't let them get their hands on it and I don't have a jacket to hide it in now. I'm right behind you, go!"

"Alright, alright," Jack grumbled, as he placed a shiny black shoe in the grate of the metal fencing and began climbing up, the tiny voice in his head that always complained about the required wardrobe for undercover gigs was rambling on about how hopefully the shoes would be scuffed beyond repair after this particular mission and how much easier this particular exit would be if he had been in his boots. He winced as the barbed wire bit into the center of his palms as he reached the top, but ignored it. He'd grown up on a ranch, after all, it wasn't an unfamiliar sensation, so he focused instead on the feeling of the chain-link rattling beneath him as Mac began to climb up and he let himself breathe a sigh of relief as he dropped back safely to the ground.

"Ouch," He heard Mac hiss from above him as he made it up to the barbed wire. "Damn useless jacket."

Jack couldn't help but smile. "Almost there, bud." He called up. "Don't tap out on me just yet."

"I'm good," Mac assured, and Jack watched him turn around to look back over his shoulder, tracking the glow from the guard's searchlights working their way closer to them.

He saw it in the kid's face, when he realized that they were home free, balanced precariously on top of that fence. Jack Dalton didn't believe in luck, no sir. But if he did, that would have been the exact moment on this particular op, that Mac's good luck turned bad. As he swung his legs over to Jack's side of the barrier, Jack watched, almost as if in slow motion, as one of his feet slipped out of the chain-link rungs and Mac's hands scrambled to grasp anything to prevent himself from falling. Unfortunately, that assist came in the form of the strand of barbed wire.

Mac let go instantly, the pain biting into his left hand becoming more pressing than the fear of falling from the top of the fence, but apparently whoever had installed the wire hadn't actually intended for someone to attempt to cross it, as its loops quickly tightened, barbs catching in the sleeve of Mac's white dress shirt, until it broke free from the nearest post and came crashing to the ground right alongside Mac.

Jack cursed, eyes quickly scanning the perimeter, knowing that the guards would be within sight any minute, as he dropped to his knees beside his partner. He winced at the wire, nearly reflective in the moonlight and wrapped tightly, spooling all the way up Mac's forearm, splotches of blood forming where the barbs had dug themselves into his skin. "Mac, I need you to talk to me bud," Jack said, wrapping his hand around Mac's uninjured wrist. "You hurt anywhere besides the obvious?"

Mac shook his head no, as his heels scrabbled against the perfectly manicured lawn, trying to escape the pain. "Just my arm." He answered finally, drawing in a shaky breath. "We need to get outta here."

"Copy that, brother," Jack agreed, reaching into his jacket and unhooking the gun hidden in a holster there, just in case. "Can you walk?"

Mac sat up with a groan. "Course I can walk." He mumbled, reaching out and grabbing the end of the coil of wire dangling near his elbow. Jack had turned his eyes away for a second, searching for any guards he would need to take out before they made a run for it, so he didn't see his partner's attempt to pull the barbed wire from his arm, only heard the sharp yelp he couldn't quite bite down.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" Jack asked, voice rising, as he quickly grabbed Mac's hand and pulled it away from his injured arm as he stood up. "I'm sorry, but that's gonna have to stay where it is for now. Till we can make it somewhere safe."

Mac nodded in agreement, breathless from the pain, as he tightened his grip on Jack's hand and used it to pull himself up to standing. With a shared nod of understanding, they began to make their way into the shadows of the woods surrounding the lawn, Jack automatically falling behind to put himself between Mac and the dangerous men searching for them.

They moved slower than usual, as they worked through the forest, staying as close to the edge of the treeline as they dared where the terrain was an easier hike, but they finally managed to make it back to their car without incident.

"You think we're in the clear now?" Mac turned to ask Jack, who was circling the car just in case.

"Yeah," Jack determined, carefully tucking the pistol back into his holster. "Haven't seen or heard 'em for a while, I think they went on straight through the woods instead of circling back around the perimeter. Amateurs." He scoffed.

Mac sighed in relief, sagging to lean against the cool black metal of the car. "How far away's exfil?"

"Chopper's about a half-hour drive from here, with me behind the wheel," Jack answered, distractedly, as he began digging through the trunk of the car for the first-aid kit Phoenix always kept in all their vehicles. "But we're gettin' you patched up before we move."

"I'm sure there's a visit to Medical in my near future," Mac protested. "And I've made it this far. I'll be fine till we get home."

"No way, kiddo," Jack argued as he finally pulled out the medical kit, frowning when he discovered that it was a much smaller one than he had hoped. "We're takin' care of you now. Besides, we were runnin' a little late before we even busted out of that place, let alone factoring in the time for that detour through the woods. You checked the time lately? There's a pretty good chance we're gonna miss our exfil anyway. I'm not waitin' around on Matty to drop us in another one with a strand of barbed wire still wrapped around that arm of yours."

Mac turned his uninjured arm over to check his watch, finding that Jack was right. Their exfil was set to leave if the pair didn't make it to the checkpoint in twenty minutes. Some pilots would wait around, especially if they had worked with Mac and Jack before and had a history with how loosely they threw around the term 'plan' but most wouldn't. "Yeah, okay." He agreed finally.

Jack reached around Mac, opening the door to the back seat of the SUV and nodded for him to sit down. "Let's see the damage," he popped open the lid on the plastic medical kit and placed it on the floorboard. There wasn't anything in it that would be of use quite yet.

"I don't think it's too bad," Mac said, frowning when he looked down at his arm and discovered that he couldn't see much beneath his shirt sleeve. "Just hurts like hell."

"Yeah, I bet it does," Jack agreed, hand hovering over his partner's shoulder. That sleeve ain't comin' off till I get rid of this wire so I guess I'm just gonna have to work around it," He bit his lip. "You know this is gonna suck, right? I don't gotta warn you?"

Mac nodded, leaning to the side a bit so that he could rest against the doorframe while Jack worked. "Go for it."

Jack sighed and gently picked up Mac's hand in his own, starting with the barbs buried deep in his palm. "Alright, here we go,"

Mac hissed as Jack tugged the first of the prongs free, instinctually pulling his hand away from the source of the pain. As if he had been expecting it, Jack allowed his hands to move with Mac's to not cause any unnecessary hurt, though he automatically pulled it back towards him again after a moment. "Sorry," He said softly, eyes flicking up to Mac's, finding them tightly closed.

Mac shook his head, knowing that his pain was upsetting Jack. "I'm good," He assured. "Just, didn't expect getting it out to hurt that bad."

Jack nodded, resting a reassuring hand against the side of Mac's neck for a moment. "I'm gonna start back again, okay?" He asked after a moment, waiting for Mac's concent before he started again. He picked up Mac's good hand and placed it against his knee. Mac instantly understood and twisted his fingers into the fabric of Jack's pants leg to ground himself. Two more barbs were removed and they were finally all out of Mac's hand, though he was now flinching away from the slightest touch.

"I hate this stuff," Jack said, hoping his voice could offer some comfort from the pain his hands were causing. "When I was a kid, back on the ranch? Man, it didn't matter how good we kept the fences fixed up, I don't think a year went by we didn't catch at least one poor animal all twisted up like this." Three prongs more and Mac's wrist was loose, though it was clearly taking its toll. Jack could tell Mac was trying his best to not react to what was happening, but the knuckles holding onto his slacks were white with strain and his shoulders were nearly trembling with tension. A sheen of sweat had broken out across his forehead. "Hey, why don't we take a break, huh?"

Mac's eyes snapped open at that, pain-filled blue orbs, brighter than the meager light they were relying on from the vehicle's dim overhead bulb. He shook his head in protest. "Keep going,"

Jack had to bite his tongue to keep from arguing, it was clear that Mac was miserable, but he had been in Mac's shoes before, though not in this exact situation, and he completely understood the determination residing just behind the pain in his eyes. The weight that came with knowing that it would still hurt just as bad, if not worse when they started back again and that a break, no matter how much of a relief it would be in the moment, would only prolong the suffering. He'd been there, so he steeled his shoulders and prepared himself to keep going. "Anything I can do to make it easier?" He asked softly.

Mac shook his head no again before pausing and requesting quietly, "Keep talking?"

"That I can do." Jack promised with a grin as he resumed his story as he began working yet another barb free. "Usually it would be coyotes, getting' caught up in the fence. Nasty things, always sneakin' in at night to kill the calves. Them we'd always just put out of their misery. No rancher ever shed a tear over a damn coyote that's for sure, but it was still awful, seein' 'em tangled up and hurting like that."

"I can relate," Mac hissed through clenched teeth as Jack pulled another barb from his skin. "If they felt anything like I do right about now they were probably thankful for you to just put them down."

"I know, bud," Jack soothed. "If you need a second to catch your breath…"

"Nope," Mac just shook his head and tightened his grip on Jack's pants leg, so Jack continued.

"Sometimes one of the cattle would sneak off and get caught. Them we could usually save, so long as we found it in time and it was old enough to survive the night alone." Jack tugged as gently as he could at another piece of the metal, but it was deeper than it first appeared and Mac let a startled whimper escape his lips as he yanked his hand away from Jack's.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Jack said, holding up placating hands, eyes tight with worry.

Mac forced out a humorless huff of a laugh that did nothing to ease his partner's nerves as he reextended his arm. "That one hurt."

"I'm sorry," Jack apologized again. "It was really in there. I just need you to stick with me for a little while longer," He pleaded. "We're almost done buddy."

Mac nodded and he began again, even more hesitantly than before until Mac's hoarse voice cut through his concentration. "Cattle."

"What?" Jack looked up, puzzled.

"Barbed wire," Mac continued. "Cattle."

Jack couldn't help but smile at the not-so-subtle reminder that he was supposed to be rambling to distract from the pain he was inflicting. "Right, of course. Cattle. We never lost too many, unless they were young or had a real cold late spring. Horses though? That was the worst." Two more barbs were pulled free. "Dad lost one of his favorite bay mares to a downed fence, actually. One out of my grandpa's cutting horse line if I remember right."

"Couldn't find her in time?" Mac asked, voice tight.

"Naw, we found her soon enough, she'd just tore up her leg to bad to be fixed." Jack frowned at the memory. "Woulda left her lame the rest of her days, in pain. Not the kinda life she deserved." He carefully pulled away another notch of metal. "But on that note, it's a good thing I'm just about through, cause I'm starting to realize that I could have seriously chosen a more uplifting story here."

Mac's eyes slowly cracked open, wary. "Really?"

"Last one," Jack promised as he went to work on the final barb. He wasn't sure which sigh of relief was louder once it was gone, Mac's or his own. "Alright," He wiped his hands off as best as he could on his thighs before reaching up and giving Mac's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I'm gonna get this sleeve off, see what we're dealin' with now, kay?"

"Here," Mac finally pried his fingers away from the fabric at Jack's knee and dug into his own pocket, pulling out his knife. His eyes landed on the first aid kit sitting on the floorboard of the SUV and his eyes darkened with dread as he reached down and pulled out a bottle of alcohol, handing both it and the knife over to Jack.

Jack made quick work of the lower half of Mac's sleeve, pulling away the pieces that were already stuck to his partner's skin with dried blood as gently as he could, before popping the cap on the antiseptic bottle. "Sorry in advance, kid." He warned before tipping it up and letting the cold liquid splash its way down Mac's arm, slowly washing away rivulets of blood.

Mac had been as prepared as was possible for the pain, but it still came as a shock, stealing the breath from his lungs as he groaned and leaned forward, burying his face and any more sounds of misery into Jack's chest. As the hurt slowly subsided, he became aware of a familiar hand gently gripping the back of his neck and he forced himself to focus on that until he was able to sit back up.

"You good?" Jack asked softly, lifting Mac's chin up to meet his eyes.

"Yeah," Mac answered, quickly wiping his good hand across his face, erasing any evidence of tears that they would both claim to be sweat. "I'm good."

"Some of these are pretty deep, man," Jack said with a frown, slowly turning Mac's arm over in his hands. "Probably could use some stitches."

"Nope. We're done, Jack. You're not stitching me up out here." Mac said. He raised his arm to get a first clear look at the injury so he missed the brief flare of hurt that flashed across Jack's eyes.

"I hurt ya that bad this time, huh?" Jack asked with a forced laugh. "You're not even gonna let me finish patching you up?"

"What?" Mac glanced up, frowning in confusion until he realized how his words had sounded. "No, that's…" He shook his head, hating the way pain sometimes caused his mind to not process his words properly. "That's not what I meant. Really." He assured. "It's just, that alcohol will do an okay job of keeping the risk of infection down but you're right some of these are pretty deep. No way I'm getting out of letting medical check me over when we finally make it home and they'll have to flush each of these out really well then. No point in you putting in sutures for them to just take them back out and redo it in a few hours."

"Oh, guess you're right." Jack agreed. "You gonna let me wrap it up at least?"

"Probably not a bad idea," Mac said, reaching down to the first aid kit and tossing Jack a roll of bandages. A few moments later Mac's arm was securely wrapped and they were speeding down the road towards the small private airstrip they were supposed to be flying out of with the offending strand of barbed wire in the backseat because Jack sure as hell wasn't going to leave it out in the woods for another poor soul to stumble upon.

"Hey, Jack?" Mac asked when they rounded the final turn in the road. "You seeing what I'm seeing right now?"

"Finally!" Jack exclaimed, slapping his hands against the steering wheel. "Somethin's going our way!" He whipped the car into park alongside the Phoenix issued helicopter that was, miraculously, still waiting on their arrival.

"My man!" He called as he quickly threw open his door and jumped out to shake the pilot's hand before jogging over to Mac's door and opening it for him. "I don't know your name, brother, but I sure am glad to see you."

"Thanks for waiting on us," Mac said once he had climbed, stiffly, out of the car, extending his own hand for their pilot to shake.

"Aw, don't thank me too much. You two have a bit of a reputation so I gave you a little extra time. Was watching the clock though, and you had nine minutes before I was taking this bird outta here alone." He let out a low whistle when he saw Mac's heavily bandaged arm. "Looks like it's a good thing I didn't, though."

"Yeah, we really appreciate it," Jack called as he reached up to open the chopper doors.

"Guess it's just your lucky day, then isn't it?" The man asked with a chuckle as he got settled in the pilot's seat.

Mac caught Jack's mouth opening, preparing what he was sure was a lecture about how there was no such thing as luck, but raised a hand to stop him. He shook his head and Jack sighed in frustration but kept quiet, reaching around Mac to shut the doors behind him.

Despite the fact that his arm was aching, his muscles were sore from that fall off the top of the fence, and helicopter rides were far from his favorite exfil method, Mac couldn't help but smile. Jack might not believe in luck, and he didn't either, not really, but he had decided long ago that there had to be _something_ out there pulling the strings of fate. There was no other explanation for how he wound up lucky enough to have Jack Dalton watching his back.

**This was a fun one! Hope y'all enjoyed! I'd love to know what you thought! **


End file.
